Art of the Supernatural



Posted on January 14, 2012 at 12:05 PM

In a blackened field that runs with blood

Where sunlight never deigns to gleam

Where bones are sowed and souls are reaped

There, on a stone, is carven a name

The name of CROM CRUACH

And further more is written there

though it chills my blood to speak the words

It tells of a day when the sun grows cold

When the trees all die and grass won’t grow

And the light that falls little more than glows

In the days of CROM CRUACH

Then shall he ride through the smitten land

And drink his fill of the blood of man

And no beast shall roam the earth again

And all belongs to CROM CRUACH

So live your days as best you can

Give love and friendship to your fellow man

And heed the turning of the land

For the time draws ever nearer

When the days foretold will be at hand

Heed the call of CROM CRUACH

Categories: Poems and Songs

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